


The Wheel, The Lightbulb, The Hotdog

by neaf



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is never wrong, except that one time when he really, really was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wheel, The Lightbulb, The Hotdog

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue to 2x06 Trinity, written at the time it aired.

Stars were the same. 

No matter which sky he looked at, John decided, stars were always the same. Big burning holes in the wide black firmament, scattered and sparkling, half of them crawling with life sucking bipeds with too much Pantene and not a dentist among them. 

If the stars were almost infinite in number, why did the destruction of so very, very many of them matter, he wondered. A solar system gone. Planets and stars now dust and vapour crawling towards the scraping edges of a black hole. 

He told Elizabeth he could save Rodney from himself. 

He lied.

* * *

Rodney won the science fair every year as a child. He rewrote his teacher's equations with cocky, slow strokes of chalk down a dirty blackboard that he could barely reach, and wiped his powdery hands on his pants. His parents could ever tell if he had chalk on his pockets, or icing sugar. 

His dozens of projects each detailed hundreds of theories in his beloved physics, all of which were completely and absolutely correct and infallible. If you asked Rodney. 

He'd been wrong before, true. But so rarely that every tiny mistake or failure could barely add up to a fraction of his time. Failure can destroy men, which is why Rodney would not fail. He could not fail. He was an everlasting genius, the beacon of light around which all other aspiring minds crowded for warmth, and the occasional jelly donut. 

He knew he was right this time. All his equations were triple checked and sure. Everything was accounted for. He was right. The Ancients were wrong, and he was right. He knew it, from his powdered fingers down to the very spark of his synapses. 

And yet. 

Kaboom.

* * *

John found Rodney eating alone in his lab, seemingly bound to his primary laptop like an IV drip. 

McKay didn't notice he had company; his eyes were glued to a downpour of equations that flooded his screen from left and right. The spinning diagram ever-expanding in the centre gave John an inkling of exactly what Rodney was revising. 

"We're heading off world at 1100." 

Rodney jumped, and wide eyes looked over his shoulder at the intruder. 

"Off-world?" 

"Yes. Off of this rock. Off of this world. Off. World. Briefing is at 0900. You ready?" Sheppard eyed the weary scientist, eyebrows lifted expectantly. 

Rodney's focus had already returned to his screen. "Zelenka is... capable. Take him, I'm busy." 

"McKay-" 

"Radek-" Rodney cut him off sharply, "is already familiar with the technology the Rothia are offering. I'm sure he'd like a chance to stretch his legs, Colonel, and I have more _important_ things to do." 

"Radek is not on this mission, you are. You dealt with the Rothia last time, you tested the technology." John watched as Rodney's shoulders slumped with impatience under his jacket and he turned. 

"Contrary to popular belief, I am neither omnipresent nor superhuman, and if you could just for one microsecond comprehend the seemingly infinite stream of data that needs to be analysed in this lab on a daily basis you might actually realise that my inability to be in two places at once is quite soundly supported by the laws of physics, and not by any means due to a lack of trying." 

"I'm certainly not complaining. I don't think I could handle more than one of you," Sheppard drawled, only barely catching the unimpressed look on Rodney's face before it was gone. "But you're still on this mission." 

Unimpressed was soon replaced by stubborn. "Says who? Hmm?" 

"Weir." 

Rodney gestured for more. 

"Me." Sheppard offered. 

"That's it?" 

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" John's brow knotted together, offended. 

"Colonel, what you don't seem to be following here is that there is more information to be processed and analysed in this one room than most human brains will process in a year. That joyful task has been appointed to me, and if you expect me to drop my work and cry how high every time you say off-world, you're either mislead or delusional." 

"You want to talk about delusional?" 

"Not particularly, now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." 

"Rodney," John's voice raised this time, "I'm not asking." 

"Really? Did it ever occur to you that whether or not your manners are intact is no relevance to me whatsoever?" 

"No, but clearly when your ego is no longer intact your asshole decides to show up." 

"Hilarious. Congratulations, Colonel, for once again abusing your daily mirth quota," Rodney turned back to his computer as he spoke, taking another bite from the half-finished Atlantean pastry on his desk, "Enjoy your time off-world, I'm sure it's going to delightful. Full of death trap technologies, insane aliens and those bugs your neck is so fond of." 

John's teeth gritted. He played the bug card. Damn him. 

"You'd best be off, then, or you'll miss your briefing," Rodney commented nonchalantly, his eyes flickering back to the panel in front of him. The same test analysis had repeated itself again, detailing each and every point and degree of the test in fine green LED detail. 

"Damn it, Rodney. You were wrong and you know it." 

Rodney froze. 

John felt the seconds pass in minutes until Rodney turned around and looked up at him, eyes wide with that slightly offended, slightly shocked wounded-deer expression. 

"You were wrong," John repeated. "And it happened. And now it's over, and done, and nothing can change it. So now," he waved his hand, "we get on with it." 

Rodney regathered himself in a moment, but not quite enough to hide the flash of utter discomfort that played across his eyes in a split second and was gone almost as quickly. "We get on with what, exactly? Life?" 

"Yes," John agreed almost forcefully. 

"Life. Hmmn. You mean like Collins' life? Or my life? Or yours, Colonel? How about the others?" 

"Rodney," John began, but couldn't find the words. His voice trailed off. 

"Rodney. Yes, Rodney McKay. Egomaniac. Genius. Last minute miracle man." Rodney was on his feet, ranting now and gesticulating with both arms. This was not good. "Every time it is expected of me, nay, demanded of me to pull the rabbit of the hat. And the one time, the one time I was sure I could do it..." 

"You made a mistake," John offered it more as a condolence than a sentence finisher. 

"No," Rodney laughed, "no, that's the thing, see, I was right. That's the problem, the paradox, the kicker. I was _right_." He punched a fist into his palm absent-mindedly. 

Sheppard closed his eyes briefly. "Damn it, Rodney." 

"No, you're right," Rodney was gesticulating again, one hand to his forehead. "I was wrong. I just--" 

John watched his friend collapse back into his seat in frustration, cradling his head slightly. After a moment lost in thought, he regained his composure, rubbed his face and tried again; "I just... I'm good at being right. It's what I do. It's what I'm good at. But being wrong? Being so wrong... I'm not good at being wrong..." 

"No, Rodney, you're not," John conceded. "So the best solution is to start being right again." 

Rodney narrowed his eyes quizzically.

"Effective immediately," Sheppard insisted with a slight smile.

McKay's laugh was breathy and slightly relieved, "I'll see what I can do."

"Briefing. Now. Let's go." John turned towards the door.

"John?"

He stopped at the sound of his name, and looked back.

Rodney smiled slightly. "Make sure they have coffee, eh?"

John did a bad job of hiding his amusement. Throwing an arm up in acknowledgement, he continued out the door.

Rodney watched him go, unsure as to whether or not the sensation passing over him was relief or caffeine deprivation. After a moment, he turned to his computer and pressed a dozen keys in quick succession. The green writing flashed TEST RESULTS ARCHIVED briefly before the laptop sounded a depressed buzz as it powered down, and all green lines shimmered into the black hole of the screen.

It was big. The wheel, the lightbulb, the hotdog big. But now it was gone, and nothing would change that.

And Rodney would be right again. If John Sheppard had anything to do with it.


End file.
